Like Never Before
by annaisadinosaur
Summary: Andromeda's never really known how it felt to laugh like she could be free, but it's all Ted's ever known.


**A/N: Written for TheTwoDL in the Guilty Pleasure Exchange II. Hope you enjoy! Based loosely off of the prompts.. er. Never been too great at following those, have I? x**

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_Like Never Before_

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For as long as she'd gone to school, she'd known Ted existed. She could still remember the first day of school, fresh off the Hogwarts Express, sitting at a table cloaked in green, swinging her feet off the bench, watching as eleven year olds scrambled to their own separate fates.

And she distinctly remembering seeing him, a small little boy with hair the color of sand that flopped desperately about every step he took. She remembered him wiggling onto the school and squeezing his eyes shut when the Sorting Hat was placed on his head, like he was summoning up his very greatest wishes for Father Christmas. Most of all, she remembered the silly, clumsy leap he took from his seat when the hat called out _HUFFLEPUFF_, and his laugh that seemed to sway with the very flames of all the candles in the hall.

It wasn't until she was in fourth year, though, that she ever really acknowledged his existence. Up until then, they had been two different sides of a world, two opposite poles that could never coincide, never meet. Andromeda had just never thought anything of him, positive or negative, and he likely hadn't either.

But it was fourth year when Ted Tonks became the victim of the Slytherin girls' vicious gossip, the girls to which Andy associated herself with. She'd vaguely heard his name, but had, of course, thought nothing of it. They were sitting in the library, pretending as if they were reading, three of the four narrowing their eyes at a fair-haired boy in yellow robes only a short distance away.

"That Tonks boy? _Him?_ Oh, he's a right little prat."

Andromeda didn't flinch at the words because this was how her friends spoke normally. She tried to remember what it was that had offended them, but for a few long moments, to no avail. _Ah, right. _He had been answering a question in class when they had attempted to speak over him; Professor McGonagall had taken House points from Slytherin for ill manners without hesitation.

Andromeda's friends, of course, had been _infuriated_.

"Bloody teacher's pet, that's what he is."

"It's no wonder he's always sitting here in the library like Billy no-mates," Septille scoffed.

Nera straightened her back, sticking out her chin. "Filthy little _mudblood_."

This made Andromeda roll her eyes. "Oh, bollocks."

The three snapped their heads in her direction. "What was that, Dromeda?"

"I said _bollocks_. Ted Tonks is not a mudblood."

"Pardon? Of course he is," Nera reprimanded, speaking with a chill that could freeze hell over. "He's got dirty muggle parents, for Salazar's sake, and I don't know what quite qualifies you as a mudblood more than that."

"He's not a _mudblood_. As far as I'm concerned, you're only a mudblood if you've got dirty blood, and family's got nothing to do with that." Andromeda was getting heated in the face as she began to slam her books closed and got to her feet.

Her friends—her _friends?_—laughed loudly, high, piercing laughs, laughs that had mocked her every waking day and sleepless night. "Dromeda, dear, do you even _know_ what you're talking about? Honestly, you're fifteen. You'd think you'd know what a _mudblood_ was by now."

She wanted to say that she knew _just_ what it was that she was talking about, that dirty blood didn't mean a muggle family, but a rotten, corroded heart, and all three of them were no doubt decently acquainted with that.

But she couldn't say that.

Instead, she gathered her books in her arms and left without saying another word at all, cheeks flushed furiously and green robes flapping around her feet. She was just so tired of _everyone_, so exhausted of pretending as if these small little things weren't constant lashes against her bare skin. Once she was in the middle of the corridor, she realized she had no idea where she was even headed, because where _could_ she go? Every path led to the same dark ends. She hated this, hated how she had to hate everything she was associated with, hated how hate was just _hate_, nothing more, nothing scandalous, extraordinary, abnormal, just another strand of hair on her head.

Out of breath, she squeezed her eyes shut and wished desperately to end the terrible throbbing in her head.

"Andromeda!"

She snapped her eyes open, spinning on her heel. But she'd moved far too fast, for it was nothing to worry about, no one that wanted to hurt her. Ted.

He was walking towards her briskly, moving at a pace she could not process. He arrived in front of her and she stared blankly.

"You forgot your book." He held it up in proof.

"Oh... did I really?" She glanced down at the books in her hands, running her fingers over the spines. Her eyes traveled back slowly to the book in Ted's hands, and she blinked incoherently. "But that's not mine."

"Oh, it isn't?" For a moment, he feigned sincerity rather well, but a small grin cracked across his lips and his act was replaced with a shy demeanor. "Well, I suppose I knew that. It is a rather good book, though."

She focused on it again, briefly. "Yes, I know. I've read it." _Why I Didn't Die When the Augurey Cried_. It admittedly wasn't the most enthralling book she'd ever read, but it was a rather good read, despite the time it took her to actually complete it. She furrowed her brow at the boy, regarding him with a curiosity that was not impolite. "Why have you come to bring me a book that isn't mine, then?"

"I didn't." He paused. "It was more of an excuse, really."

"Not a very good one," she said.

"No, no. More to convince myself than to convince you, I think."

She really had no idea what he was going on about. Close up, though, she observed that she'd never properly seen his face before; he towered much above her, eyes like the sea, hair like the waves. She quite liked his face, actually.

"Convince me of what, exactly?"

He rubbed the back of his neck momentarily, and then returned the book to his side. "I overheard your conversation, and I wanted to apologize."

Andromeda felt her face grow hot once more. "Apologize for eavesdropping, you mean?"

"No." He smiled slyly. "Sorry for causing the argument with your friends, I mean."

"Oh." She shuffled in her stance, trying to decide how she felt about it herself. "It's okay. It wasn't your fault."

"It was, though. I _am_ the mudblood, after all."

She frowned deeply. "Don't call yourself that."

"But I am. And that's all right." He shrugged. "What do I care? Saves me from having to associate with the wrong people, doesn't it?"

And he should be so lucky. That definitely put things in perspective for her. "Well, I don't care," she said, shaking her head. "I still stand by what I said, so there's no need to be sorry."

He looked at her for a long moment, as if there was something to read in her eyes, something significant. And she gazed back, eyes wide and naïve, bright in comparison to her dark irises.

Ted smiled freely this time. "Thank you, Andromeda."

She stood up straighter, wondering how he could address her by her first name so casually when it was the first time they had ever spoken. She'd been taught her entire life that that was _most _improper. But, then again, for the same reason, she was fairly fond of the address. And so she went along with it.

"Pray, for what, Ted?"

He shrugged, looking jubilant, like a small boy. "Dunno. I guess I've never quite met a Slytherin willing to stand up for a muggle-born."

She frowned. "I guess I never _have_ quite fit in." To his surprise, however, she met his eyes once more and smiled. "I'll see you around then, Ted."

He inclined his head briefly in good-bye, and they shared a long, meaningful and somehow familiar gaze before both finally parting ways.

. . . . .

A week passed, and at times, she would pass Ted in the hallways. They never said anything, in passing or in class periods, but they regarded each other with a quick connection of gazes and a small upward turn of their lips.

That Thursday night, however, Andromeda found him in the library and was determined to speak with him.

She knew quite well that her _friends _were a decently feasible distance away, but she didn't care. She knew also that they were undoubtedly watching her like prey, but she didn't care about that, either.

"Ted?"

His head snapped up, and he took her presence in with surprised green eyes. "Oh, Andromeda. Hello."

The library seemed to pulse with a sort of nervous energy. She summoned all of her courage and seated herself briskly in the chair beside him. She noticed with relief that he didn't seem to mind. She slid a thick-spined book across the table top to him, staring at it for a moment as if she was waiting for _it_ to speak. He looked at her curiously.

"You forgot your book," she said calmly.

His eyes flitted back to the book of question, and he knit his brows together in speculation, before realization dawned over his face and he began to laugh loudly.

"Shhh!" Andromeda swatted at his arm after receiving a glare of warning from Madam Pince. She was smiling, though indistinctly. She wished she really didn't have to tell him to stop laughing, because it was a laugh like none other she'd ever heard. She was used to laughs that cut, laughs that rang out like on restricted tracks, laughs that fit into straight lines and always fell on cue. His was like an earthquake, unexpected and far out of range, but strangely warm and lovely sounding.

"Sorry," he said quickly, and she wondered if that obstinate grin ever left his face. She hoped not. He pulled the book to himself, eyes falling over it. "You know, I've never read this one."

Andromeda bit her lips together, and then said sheepishly, "Actually, I haven't, either."

For some reason she'd never know, Ted began to laugh again as if she was the world's greatest comic. She tried to shush him, but the longer he laughed, the more ironic she found it all, the crazier she felt, the more _she_ felt like laughing, too. And so they sat in the library, nearly keeling over from laughter. Even after Madam Pince hissed at them to be quiet, Andromeda couldn't help but think she hadn't ever felt more free and _happy _about anything so foolish in her life.

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**Thanks very much for reading! Gah, I think I've subconsciously boarded this Andromeda/Ted ship. Anyway- leave a review, lovelies? :) **


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